


Facades and Fading Memories

by SwampWitch333



Category: Original Work, Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Lesbian Character, Murder, No Plot/Plotless, No Sex, Other, S&M, Sadism, Suicide, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwampWitch333/pseuds/SwampWitch333





	1. Reasons Why and Vera, the Devils' Concubine

Contributions, forgone acts of contrition, attempts at attrition successfully succeeding retribution.

Stained glass mirror, a faded print of planted lipstick, late afternoon sunlight has tainted it's pucker.

My teeth bared, scrubbing the smudged blemish off of the reflective surface. Refracted, my face warps in front of me. My hand halts the cleansing process, press my fingers to my cheek, an unfortunate reality check. Fine eyebrow raised, i stare back into amused eyes until the darkness seems to suck me in, for have i gone mad? I laugh aloud. Facades and fading memories.

Pouring myself a shot of vodka, the glass clinks down on the wooden surface on my table. In a subterranean level of my house, the rattle of chains can be heard. Ah; the rattlesnake, milked of its poison, turned into a mere garden snake.

Abandoning my shot glass, i take a swig out of the bottle, relishing the sound of a struggle in vain. With a sign and roll of my eyes, my thumb smashes the button on an intercom hooked up to my keep below. A baby monitor, to monitor a baby.

"Struggling are we, Vera.", my voice thick with revulsion at the sniveling little shit. I can hear her straining and struggling against the chains that bind her.

Muffled faint sniffles and cries reveberate through the static filled air. Taking another swig, i cap the bottle, clunking it down on the table. I'm silent and i swear i can hear her thumping little hollow boned birdlike mousey heart. The feline is to strike, unfolding my black leather gloves, i take a moment to inhale the her scent of scent of fear and my victory.  
I inhale nostalgia, leather snapping to fit my skin, each hand snug within fitted leather, i curl my hands into fists and close my eyes. Recollections, the jig saw puzzle of memories, trying to find the missing pieces.

 

~~~

My uniform is flawless, like my bun. I storm through hallways in control before i start the job. Betas all fighting for an Alpha position they will never reach. Warden's keys jingle in my hand.  
New job, new staff. Vera. So naive, a little mouse, or so i thought. Oh how you seemed different, didn't you? You seemed innocent and safe, yet we both know what a facade your game was. Looking at me so adoringly until it sickened me, the smell of weakness, i was disgusted with your lies!

"Vera, is your mother going to get in the way of your future career?"

"No, Governor i-i-"

"Just shut the fuck up."

Eyes wide, the doe in the scope is really a half cocked stag in disguise, for when one is in my crosshairs, that's a shot i refuse to miss..

Leather palm smacking against a pale cheek, flushed with Vera's own insecure confusions.

Oh the surprise! Her eyes appear shocked someone else could slap the entitled brat. The truth in childish Vera came out in the end. I didn't make her, i merely helped her realize her potential. Such a meek little cunt, a tease. Yet she returns for more again and again, as if I'm her drug she cannot get enough of.

"If you don't rectify the situation with your mum, i will."

"But..but i need to be home for mummy!"

Leather hand wrapped around a spindly neck, i have her up against the wall, my eyeshine hateful and repulsed along with a pinch of too much pity, equally an overdose of resentment to be in the presence of such an inadequate excuse of a woman.

"Grow the fuck up, Vera!"

My voice softens and not at her welling up tears.

"You are a grown ass woman, are you not?" Condescension coats my throat as if bile has come up.

Vera attempts a look of innocence, childlike naivete, we all know what a vicious siren she really is.

"Y-yes!', she manages to stammer out. I realise my hold around her neck, her cheeks reddened, i thrust her away, watching as she slides down against the wall. Her hand automatically goes to her neck, as if she could ever protect herself from her own failings or the likes of mine shattered heart .

"I thought we had a deal. I'm your only friend here, you do realize that?"

A gulp and a nod. I fake a lunge and slam my fist into the cinder block, intentionally missing an inch away from her head.

"Yes!" Her tears well over, snot escaping her nose.

I look at Vera as if she's a piece of shit.

"So you always like to lead people on? Do you think anyone gives a shit about you. As if you have anything to offer!" 

Snorting in disgust, i turn away from the quivering mess huddled against the wall. Her weakness makes me sick, she'll need work. Being kind gets one nowhere, I've tried that; bringing Vera and her dear 'mummy' dinner, even cooking. The later dinner date, debriefing, Vera's promises, amounted to nothing aside from pain. Time for her to see how it feels, and to prove her worth, if any.

"Surely you want to put dear 'mummy' out of her misery. After all, she could face a...much worse demisE." I stress the latter for affect, to drill it into the little idiot's head.

Vera attempts her hardest to compose herself, flitting hands try and smooth out her wrinkled uniform. She so desperately tries to conceal how pathetic she is, her failure for all to see.

"I'll get right on it, Governor.", a firm nod she looks me in the eye.

Staring my prey down, i withhold a smirk, knowing she'll need help as she does with everything else. Vera averts her eyes, her expression exuding no self confidence.

\---

Later on that evening i watch from outside Vera's mum's house window, as she overdoses her ill mother with a more than lethal dosage of narcotics.

Half smiling, i watch, assured the deal is done, before i slink back into the darkness, a panther of the night.

~~~

The couch creaks as i shift to stand up. I eye the vodka, taking a final swig. Returning it to the freezer, i pad back across the floor. I've learned to be silent, without a sound. Stealth was always one of my assets.  
Vera cannot hear what I'm doing, not that it matters. The baby monitor is monitoring a infantile Vera. Snuffles and muffled crying, the usual.

The only sound is the cackling crackle of static and what appears to be Vera lamenting over some attempt at an aquarium she once had.

I think to myself, 'Oh, this ought to be good.'  
I preheat the oven and check on the thawing out tilapia on the counter. How fitting.

Hands bound to leather, i slowly work my way to the door to my basement.

"Vera!"

She looks up at me from her bondage, red eyes leaking salt yet her play for pity or sympathy or whatever it is she seeks has fell on deaf ears.

"Y-yes, Governor?", barely audible, the mouse squeaks.

"Vera, Vera, what is wrong now?", a saccharine sweet smile plastered on my face i await her explanation.

She hesitates, and i make like i am about to return up the stairs.

Vera seeks out attention like some wounded child. She cries out, "Don't go! Sit with me? PleasE?"

Observing my catch as if a new found species, i sit several feet away. For my own sanity, and for safety reasons she cannot reach out and touch me.

"Is this about your goldfish, again, Vera? We all know communication was never one of your fine points. It's one if your many weaknesses, to be precise."

I expect an answer for her idiotic moaning.

"I-i killed them!"

"What seems to to be the problem, Vera. We both know you didn't heed my advice to fix the suction of that tank filter."

Vera sniffles, attempts to wipe her nose on her sleeve are a waste of her time.

"Mummy said it wasn't my fault'"

"Learn to take responsibility for your own actions. Your not your mother, although i highly doubt that symbiotic mix of toxicity you can seperate in that mind of yours."

My gloved hand crashes down on the side of her head. She's used to this by now, one would think she'd learn. Evidently she lacks the IQ, yet not to underestimate. Vera is good at playing dumb, to the point others' have thought her a simpleton. I know otherwise.

Staring off into space i recollect. Vera trying to manipulate other's for sex, attention, whatever it may be her sick mind craves.most swallow her hook, line and sinker. Then throw that dead fish back in the water, unfit for consumption.

"You like playing the victim, don't you, Vera?"

She nods profusively. I reach into my pocket with a present for her. Insolent child she is. 

"Did your "mummy" teach you that."

Eyes wide in expectation, i unwrap the sucker and shove it hard into her mouth. A wonder she doesn't choke.

With thankful eyes, she looks up at me, "Y-yes. Thank you for the lollipop, Governor!"

"What happened to your goldfish, Vera?"

"I k-killed them. I allowed them to do die. Mummy s-said-"

I cut her off sharply. " I don't want to hear another word about how your "mummy" having said this or that bullshit. Your mother is dead, Vera. You killed her too. Just like you did those goldfish."

The sniveling starts up again, nothing more than crocodile tears, that expect a reaction, someone to replace her embittered mum and exclaim with pity that Vera is not at fault. Always the victim, she is i bitchslap her hard across her face, salted tears crying for her own self pity flying every which way.

I strike her again with the leather backside of my hand. The crack of the lollipop hanging out of her mouth as it chips a tooth is evident. I ignore it.

"Grow the fuck up, you Little Bitch!" My patience is waning by some immature imp disguised as a grown woman.

"I should have took your advice, Governor. Those fish could have been saved."

This is mere amusement to me, as i stare at the cold grey blue eyes of the creature before me. It is very entertaining to see her attempt to express false concern over goldfish, same as her mum. That of which she cared not to save, as she wanted pity from her mummy. A woman who is no longer breathing. The victim card was one I've never played nor will ever, i have pride. My self esteem is present, unlike Vera's. 

"So then you realize it is you who is the sole one at fault for their deaths. You chose not to prevent death, so you could reap what you see as 'benefits' of self pity. My, my if you don't have something similar to Munchausens. Did mummy' teach you this?"

Laughing i answer for her, raging, although I'm far from quitting this game i play to win.

"Of course she did! The only shit you ever learned in your miserable life is from that cunt 'mum' of yours."

"You can thank me for anything useful you ever learned." I smirk glorious adding, "Fish for dinner tonight."

I flick a switch against Vera's bear back, marking my property even more.

"Thank you, Governor!"

Standing back i observe my captive, switch in one hand, other hand holding up handcuffs in a suggestion yet there is no choice for Vera.  
Raising an eyebrow with the hand with handcuffs raised. 

Vera offers, "Maybe I'd like that."

D  
Switch falling to the floor, i slam my body against hers, chains that bind her cracking against the concrete wall. Her back to my chest, i loosen her chains, to only bind her with military strength handcuffs instead.

The chains ring out a melancholic tone against cement, abandoned, oh how familiar a song.

~~~

Watching Vera shove her face into a plate of half cooked tilapia and roasted potatoes is quite amusing.  
She can't be trusted with dining utensils, we can't have her trying to stab herself with a fork. It's for her own benefit.

I've already ate my properly cooked dinner upstairs, away from her, in the calm peace of silence. This is my dessert, watching a handcuffed Vera eat like a pig.  
My eyes bore a hole in her so hard i can swear she's afire and my vision blurs, dissociation taking place.

\-----

Vera and i are meeting up at my house. After a perfectly cooked dinner of steak and vegetables, Vera stops and stares..

"Joan, i love you."

My knife and fork clatter onto the wooden table, i am stupified. After a second i glare hard at her.

"Do NOT ever say such a thing to me, unless you sincerely mean it, do you understand?"

Vera's head bobs up and down, puppy dog eyes looking as if to afirm her statement. I have doubts she even knows what love is, for she has not suffered the pain and heartbreak of loss. Most likely she is in love with the concept society has created for her from Hallmark channel movies, greeting cards and an extra helping of bullshit.

"I highly doubt you understand at all. You say you love me, all words. Your face and actions betray whatever sick motive is behind your words."

"There are consequences to saying such things if you do not mean them." I spear a grilled square of steak and pop it into my mouth, chewing, watching, waiting. The alligator taking a bite out of a halfwit midnight swimmer in a murky retention pond.  
Vera is such a acquiescent dinky creature, she wants love so bad, for she cannot find it in herself. She is quick to spout those three accursed words to anyone who shows her a grain of attention.

"You loved Fletcher, too", It's not a question. It's a statement only an idiot would agree to. Vera is an idiot. She looks blankly at me before an obedient smile crosses her face.  
I want to wipe that dumb dipshit look off her face. I restrain, self control for now. Instead i smile and nod.

"Of course you did."

"Well yes but he, he was um an oaf-"

"Let me guess, Vera, you did not reach orgasm with such a caveman."

"Yes!" Vera looks relieved, too stupid to release she has fell right into my trap with her own stupidity. I give her a look of adoration, taking her glass into the kitchen along with my own. Pouring her triple the amount of vodka, i mix it with pop. A mirror image of my once diluted drink.

\----

Vera is staring at me oddly and i snap out of my recollections.

"What!", i demand with a lip upturned as if Elvis was pissed off.

Vera starts chanting a drilled cadence I've taught her.  
As if it will ever save her.

Plucking a sales circular off an end table, i scan through produce, meats, homes supplies and various sale items. Celeste Pizza for one .48 cents. My mind wanders to another time and place, back to when i was a child, ravished with hunger, shoving that same brand into a microwave. Half cold and freezer burned, i ate with fervor.

Glancing at my charge, she is looking quizzical, her mind processing me, albeit slowly. Rolling up the paper circular, in one swift motion i smack her across the face with it. Vera looks as if she'll crumple like a wad of expired coupons crumbled in my hand. I toss the wadded up circular across the room. My eyes dark, tarpit traps, Vera wants more, any attention is better than none. She deserves to be ignored, punished. It's her penance, and it's overdue to me.

A red mark is forming against the side of Vera's cheek. She's learning. Physical wounds heal, or leave a scar, either way, they're mostly forgotten. Onto the next part of my plans.

Vera's eyes bore me down, following my movements, uncertainty obvious. I cannot resist.

"Curious are we?" I muster up a fake smile that is nowhere close to reaching me eyes.

Vera's eYes struggle into focus, on me. She appears strained in more ways than one. Mouth open, a fish gasping for water.

"Vera, you should see yourself, you look like one of your dead goldfish." Clicking a button on a control panel on the wall, a rotated section across from a frail Vera rotates, mirror in place. Self reflection will be good for her.

She gasps loudly and a keening escapes from her chapped lips. A look of terror across her face, she stares herself down in the lengthy mirror. Taped to it are plastic baggies containing her dead goldfish, I'm sure she can smell it. She's always had such a weak stomach, weak everything.

"Happy you took some lives, Vera?" My smirk is authentic.

The look on her face is classic, i take a snapshot with a Polaroid camera i save for such occasions. Wrist flicking the photo, i watch her with acute interest. The subject is distraught. Good. That was my intention. My muscular arm reaches into a lid of a wooden box.

"But mummy said i didn't-"

Flayed leather strikes, as if lightning, just above her head, the cat o' nine returning to it's master.

Vera wails and shrivels up into a ball of self pity. I pick her blondish light hairs out of the leather and pocket them.

"What's the problem, now, Vera."

Her nose is dripping snot, disgusting child she is. Perhaps the snot will soothe her perpetually chapped lips.

"Do you miss your mum? That can be arranged."

The mortified expression she totes is laughable. So i laugh and laugh long and hard, straight from the heart.

"Oh, you should see yourself."

Walking over i grip either side of her head in gloved hands, forcing her to look into the mirror. We are quite the contrast. She drove me to this point. Ironic how we both have no family and how such a meak small woman who i thought was empathetic can hide the fact she's just a manipulative little bitch, one that would rather her pet goldfish die than take my advice. She fed off her mum's validation and enabling of Vera's self pity. Always the victim until they sincerely become the definition.  
Having opened my heart, my home, my feelings to Vera, she did nothing other than take advantage of me. I should have known. Now the ball is in my court and it's a home game. One of which she'll never win.

Vera is begging, eyes tearing, mouth forming unintelligible syllables. I release my grip on her face, lost in thought, unware of my strength. 

Shoving her head backwards, i walk away, bringing my cat o' nine tails back upstairs with me. Each step i take is heavy, like my heart. Always ready for a funeral, never a wedding.

\----

Leather placed on the fireplace mantle, i fall back onto my sofa. My iPad is on it's stand, a direct view of a sobbing Vera on it's screen from the hidden camera downstairs. Glass bottles ring out, as if hitting one another, the song of pain, i drain the Whiskey. The solidness of the bottle is heavy, well made glass in my hand. I toss it around, feeling it's weight. 

Vera is a looker, still possesses beauty. I grin relishing all that remains of the Whiskey in my mouth. Eyeing the Vodka, i spare it for now.

The iPad in front of me draws my attention. Vera is to not be underestimated, for all her stupidity, she's learned from the master of manipulation, her dead 'mummy'. I've mentored her to the best of my abilities, a good deed that bit me in the ass.

Clasping the empty Whiskey bottle in one hand, i peer at the iPad's monitor. Frowning, i head downstairs, not realizing or caring that i still grip the empty bottle of whiskey in my hand.

~~~

Slamming the door to the basememt, i stalk down, boots clicking down stairs.

"Really, Vera. Can't say I'm that surprised. You know you aren't escaping those, right?" I nod at her struggling against handcuffs behind her back.

Glancing at me, i see disdain in her eyes. How dare she judge me! She is no different than the other's, a tool trying to fit in with the rest of the dull blades in a garden shed. My anger builds, rises as if smoke from a signal fire that i should have read Vera's red flags a mile away. Mad at myself and her deceit, my arm swings, letting loose the Whiskey bottle i held hostage in my hand unaware. 

Glass splitting, shattering, shrapnel, hitting the wall, well made, brawny, empty Whiskey bottle gone postal, slamming and splintering against the cement walls.

Flinching, the ninny will never learn, no matter how much she is exposed to, she will never master the art of calm reflexes.  
Vera smells of shit and piss. My nose wrinkled i move in for the verbal kill.

"Do you need your diaper changed? You do!" Eyes ablaze i let her know how much she sickens me. She lacks self esteem to the point she will allow innocent deaths is appalling. Inability too learn from her mistakes, she defines stupidity or sociopathy.

Vera looks like a admonished child, that of which she is. A grown ass woman hiding under various guises, still awaiting approval from mum. It's a wonder she ever got a job in corrections.  
Tossing her a clean, new adult diaper, i stand while ensuring she does the honors.

She's humiliated, cowed. She should be, it's what she deserves. I stand vigilante and watch, making sure she has the common sense to remove her soiled Depends brand diaper.

"You knoW where thaT goes.", i remind my lag before me.

Sheepishly, she tosses it into the diaper pail near her.  
If she wants to act like a bloody baby, she'll get treated like the infantile fuckgirl she is.

"Vera, i believe you are forgetting something."

Handcuffs jingle and a helpless look crosses her face.

"If i uncuff you, can you play nice? I'll even let you set a fire in the old woodstove, your favorite."

Vera's face lights up like a child's on Christmas. Fletcher had mentioned how she loved his fireplace and starting a fire.


	2. Alle en Asche

With a strong grip squeezing Vera's arm, i guide my inmate upstairs.

Upon reaching the fireplace, i shove her to her knees in front of it. Reaching over, i grab a choke chain collar from the mantle. 

Vera looks like a child on Christmas morning, eager to open a present. I hook the metal linked collar around her neck, clipping the circular loop to a long chain mounted to the living room wall. I uncuff one of her hands, closely watching her. She's too excited to care what I'm doing. 

"Vera?"

She looks up at me, childlike innocence with a taint of djinn.

"This is a gift. You fuck up, well i need not explain consequences."

Her head nods like a plastic bobble head on a dashboard of a vehicle off roading on rocky terrain.  
Glee lights up her face. I've yet to figure out why she enjoys this 'activity' so much. 

I stack logs while Vera watches eagerly in anticipation.  
Holding a match just out of her reach, her gangly arm reaches impatiently.

Withdrawing the match, i stand motionless surveying the jejune woman before me.

"Answer me this, or you will go right back downstairs."

Her eyes indicate disappointment, a degree of animosity, almost scheming. 

"Not so innocent, are you now, Vera." Amused, i watch her strain towards the match, each lunge her collar tightens, yet she doesn't learn. She hasn't yet and never will it seems.  
Her cracked lips produce a growl like coarse sound. She chokes herself lunging for a match she will never reach, the dolt of a woman!

"Vera!", snapping my words and whip, a crack against her back works like a charm. She appears dazed.

"What", she murmurs. Assertion was never one of her fine points, always the awfully passive type.  
Blue eyes swimming into focus, she wants her treat and corrects herself as if on cue.  
"Yes, Governor?"

It's an act of pure bullshit, yet i want an answer from her, and it's a pleasure to watch her supplicate for her desire to play in my fireplace.

"What is it that makes lighting these fires so gratifying for you? Your tickled pink." 

Reaching down to hand her the match, i swiftly withdraw my offer again. She can answer first. Her attempts to snatch the match with her hand fail, and she appears crestfallen, about to give up.

"How hard is it to answer the question!" Feeling my irritation growing all the more, i walk back towards the couch.

Reclining, i uncap the Vodka, and drink from the bottle, sizing up Vera. Setting the bottle down with a loud thud, she seems to break from her thousand yard stare. Standing up, i walk over to the refrigerator, plunking ice cubes into my glass, then pouring a nice cold glass of Goya pear fruit juice. I relish the taste.

"I-my, my mum's b-boyfriend.." Stammers out Vera.

I cross the room, taking a seat on the coffee table's edge.

"What about him?" Peering at her over my glass, i savor a drink of ice cold pear juice, delicious. "Did you fuck him for mummy so he'd pay her bills? Oh and that leased car?", venomous i drip poison with mal intent at this lesser being before me. On her knees, how fitting, Vera. Simple things such as pear fruit juice make me happy. Vera, on the other hand, is extremely complex. 

"He taught me how to set a fire in the woodstove."

Practically spitting out my drink, i cannot withhold my laughter. I manage to swallow first, pear juice is not to be recklessly wasted. Roaring with laughter, I'm not sure which is more hilarious, that someone actually had to teach her to set a fire, or her mother had a boyfriend.

"So did he show you how to rub a stick?" Deadpan, she looks provoked and i crack a smile, with teeth. "I'm sure he taught you a lot didn't he?"

"No! He showed me how to use matches and paper to start a fire! You don't know everything about me!" Defensive, oh Vera, mummy sold you out for some money, the stupid slag, i should voice my thoughts, yet decide to save them for later. After all, Vera is aware of what she is.

Quite the antagonized one, it's as if Vera is dry kindling about to ignite, similar to the dry paper i save for her childish fires. Pun on words intended.

She adds as if attempting a comeback, "It was 5 years ago! I love mummy why would i want to leave her!"

Appearing as serious as i can i reiterate mind blowing denseness of the heart breaking dolt in front of me.

"So, you learned how to start a fire at age 34, by your mother's ex-boyfriend? He grooms you, covets you as your frigid mum is no catch, and you tolerate the abuse for 'dear old mum', eh!. Vera, i hope your not lying to me, that is one of most sad things I've ever heard." Sipping my pear juice, my eyes delve into hers.

She looks stupefied.

"Yes, i swear!"

Switching my tactics i respond with kindness.

"You've never shared this with me, I'm surprised. Those who are close usually share these type of things."

Vera is defensive, her face, posture betray her.

"He was a great man! He always had me help him with his truck and had a special nickname for me."

"That's very kind of him surely he did, what was the nickname?" I cannot fathom Vera capable of working on a truck, let alone pumping her own gas. My voice covers the amusement sarcasm my mind processes.

"He called me Breezy. And-and i helped him with a lot of stuff."

Setting my empty glass down, the ice cube i was crunching, flies towards Vera, directly bouncing off her forehead. I guffaw at the remote possibility of what she has just said. 

"What did you do, Vera? Stand there and look pretty? Did you learn to change his oil? After all, you know what Breezy means, do you not?"

A perplexed look lingers on her face, uncertainty. She never could mask her emotions well.

"Vera, Vera, Vera, my dear. Breezy is old American slang for an 'easy woman'. A loose woman, your mother allowed him to call you this?!"

"What the fuck, Vera!"

"Mum relied on him for help with money at the time and he lent her an automobile."

"You don't think it strange that he referred to you as some "Breezy"; a loose woman?" 

"I-i don't know, at the time i just- i don't know. He was always taking me out to eat, he was kind."

Vera's dull-wittedness never ceases to amaze me. She lacks common sense. I'm give her my honest opinion.

"You do realize he was grooming you? Your mum saw you as an easy sell..let's just say he was looking to trade her in for the younger model. That would be you."

I let that sink into her dense head.

Vera gasped, realization slowly starting to sink in. Her face contorting as if she would cry. "I always hated having to be eat in public with him!".

Sighing, i get up and go over to her grabbing her into a hug. I stroke her messy blondish hair. "You do realize you had a choice, no one ever taught you to speak up, my dear."

"Not your fault your mum did not care to protect you." I tack on words as pinning the tail on a donkey; child's play.

Vera sobs and pants out words, "There were times i thought it odd, h-he made me uncomfortable."

"Shh, shh, now. This is why i tried to teach you to speak up. Other's see weakness, and they will smell it on you and circle you like a shark." 

Mixed emotions fill me, as i do not want to enable her victim playing. On the other hand, some part of me feels pity for the wretched little childish woman before me.

Quickly i get up and reach for the matches.

"You still want to play with fire, Vera?"

Past history and tears forgotten, Vera beams and her outstretched hand reaches for a match. How soon she forgets. Frowning i hold out the striker on the box, before placing it far from her reach.

Vera is joyous, holding a paper afire and lighting everything she can inside the fireplace. 

I watch her like a hawk, despite her appearance of innocence, it's an act that cannot be trusted.

Vera seems content with watching the fire she made glow while embers crackle and pop. She is similar, a rice crispy, a piece of cereal i can grind into dust with the heel of my boot.

Grabbing a gallon jug of water, i hastily douse the flames. She looks as if a child admonished.

"Party's over."

I quickly grab her free arm, reattaching the handcuff mate to it. She protests only slightly, she's learning. Slowly, yet learning. I release the chain hook on her collar, and direct her back downstairs to my basement.  
Once there, i hook her collar to a different wire, double check her handcuffs and scan the room thoroughly to make sure there is nothing she can get into. Watching, she curls up on a cheap mattress pad i have placed on the floor for her, her cuffed hands grab at a soft blanket.

Satisfied, i kill the lights and head up the stairs with a very brief "Goodnight Vera."

Bringing the monitors into my bedroom, i put on pajamas. Vera is snoring ever so slightly over the intercom, sleeping like a baby. I climb into bed, feeling for my trusty .38 revolver underneath my pillow. With a hand clutching the revolver against my upper chest, against my heart, i fall asleep. The gun in my hand ensures a fitful sleep every time.

Memories bounce off the walls of my mind, a vicious loop of what once was, never to be again. As if i am to feel a dissociative nostalgia. I grip my revolver and try and let sleep take it's course.

Sleep eludes me, I'm haunted by what seems a hundred ghosts of memories that fade until the witching hours. Tightening my grip on my revolver, my chin resting upon it, the sandman finally comes.


	3. Haunted Dreams and Breaking fast in Bed

"Wakey, wakey, Vera." I kick at the mattress on the cement floor with my boot tip.  
Some never learn. I'll die before becoming one of them. So will she.

Vera squints, rubbing her eyes, childlike yet far from innocent. She's actually attractive in the light that filters through a dusty window on the far side.

"Sleep well, my dear?"

She scrunches up her face in that 'Vera way' of hers. Melancholy has humbled me, yet I'll never show it.

Groggy she replies an affirmative, polite as usual, always hiding her feelings. This will never do.

"Hungry, Vera?"

Oh she has no idea what i have in store for her.

She only stares, half asleep, her brain not kicked in yet. I hand her a cup of tea. 

"Thank you, Governor." 

I wish we could move past idiotic formalities, yet this is the last time.

Sipping my own tea, i closely observe her facial features. How could this husk of a woman undo me. I push down the anger boiling up inside me. It's all useless anyway. Thus is life. I double check her bindings, as i cannot afford mistakes. Games always end in the end, one's version of 'winning' is in the eyes of those who behold it.

"How about some brekkie?"

"Sure, thanks." Vera is distracted.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sarcasm rings through my voice like the off key tone of a broken liberty bell. Neither of us are free. We are hostage to our minds, lost love, Vera's in literal bondage. Why did she have to hurt me.

"No, no, just groggy and waking up is all."

"You really think i was born yesterday?" I reach over for a horse whip, I'm not playing nor am i in the mood for her simple iinfantile games.

She's no choice. I grab her tea, tossing it into a rubbish bin across the room. Lifting up the back of her shirt, i strike her three times, the whip leaving it's red gashes across her back. Three times three let her see, oh let her see..yet the little bitch will always be metaphorically blind. Beads of blood roll down broken and bruised skin. Good. She can remember me by this, why I'm doing this. She loves it, she's a sucker for this.

Adoringly she looks up at me vacant blue grey eyes begging for more. She won't have her way, not today, not ever.

"Would you like brekkie?" I hate repeating myself.

"That would be lovely, Governor."

"Good, then." Placing the bull whip away, i head upstairs. Each click of my boot as if time is a ticking clock, seconds closer to death, away from our sorry lives.

~~~

Monitoring from my iPad and that half assed baby monitor, i place her long dead goldfish that had been taped to those baggies on the mirror, into my blender until it's a mushy mess. Frying pan sizzling with bacon, i add the oh so special fishy ingredients to an omelette. I grin, full teeth. She should have not have rejected me, i could have given her the world. Then again if she wanted the world and not me, is anything even worth shit?

Carrying a plate down; "fish" omelette with bacon and some cheese, my other hand holds a juicebox of orange juice. Vera doesn't deserve glasses anymore, she's not earned the priveledge. Pathetic child she is.

\---

"Ready for your brekkie?" I smile authentically as i place her plate in front of her along with a spoon. 

She looks up at me thankful for the food, yet those blue eyes only serve to disguise the lies that live behind them. Seating myself across the room on a wooden box, I can't wouldn't miss her eating this meal.

Vera takes her spoon and cuts off a section of omelette, plopping it into her mouth.

"Good?" I smirk.

Vera nods, her eyes slightly betraying her fake smile.

"There's no issue with the food now, i gather?" I feel a thousand years old as if I'm a walking corpse who has seen too much.

"N-no, it's delicious, thank you." Vera proceeds to spoon more into her mouth. I'm not sure if she's just hungry or full of shit again, so eager to please. I'm the only one left she can please and i am not happy with how this entire catastrophe turned out.

Gazing at her adoringly, i move closer to her.

"Vera, you do know..that despite all this; everything, i do love you." It's a statement with the taint of a question shoved in.

"I know you do, Gov'ner." Vera shovels spoonfuls into her mouth, appearing famished. My lip upturns slightly, I'm enjoying this.

"Good." A one word answer, for a manipulative simpleton. She should have learned self respect awhile ago. With that mother of hers, it's a wonder she never rebelled. I'm appalled by her. Yet I'm no case of perfection, nor mentally sound myself. If only she had not fucked me over. Last time i have a heart.

I remove her cleaned off plate, placing her emptied orange juice box a top it.

Heading back upstairs again, i like the excercise, stairmaster 1000.

"Where are you-"

"Where do you think, Vera?" I'm annoyed by the stupidity of the wench* in chains.

She falls silent.

I continue on my way upstairs to do dishes.

Vera cleaned her plate, what a good girl. I mull over rewarding her.

~~~

'She is all lies, don't let her innocent facade fool you!'

"Don't worry Dad, I've not and i won't."

'Oh you already have if that bitch is captive in your basement!'

Snickering ghosts haunt me along with my pride.

I hurl ceramics againat the wall, no need to do that dish.

I'm pissed, heart racing, blood boiling i can feel it rushing through my veins. A levee broken, raging waters eager for lives to take during a hurricane. 

Reaching into the refrigerator i pour a cup of frigid Vodka. Downing it with one gulp, i run a hand through my hair, my eyes blazing like some wild mustang, entrapped and attempted to bridle.

I'm not having this at all, Vera has killed off any good left in me.

Nostrils flaring, i deep breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Eyes rolling psychotic, i fight the urges from within.

Sweeping up Vera's cleaned plate into the rubbish, another one bites the dust. We'll all end up dust in the end. I smile at the thought of that concept. Deception, decay and dust, that just sifts through your fingers, sand through the proverbial hourglass of life.

I feel untouchable. Death cannot hurt me, i welcome it.  
Vera was never one for women's rights, she was a bloody coward, a whore like her mum and destined for worse had i not rescued her. She would have fit right in, some 1950's sitcom of the passive wife tending to a hubby and baby. I offered her escape, knowledge, she refused!

Epaulettes decorate the shoulders of my uniform, oh how little Vera covets power. Once given to her, she's clueless as what to do with it or how to use it for the greater good.  
I smooth freshly ironed creases. My uniform is impeccable, I've the need to keep tradition, it's been a long time since I've set foot in that muck of a prison.

\---

"Vera."  
I wait for a response, she best acknowledge me, I've been keeping her alive all this time.

Vera smiles up at me. I kneel down so I'm at her level. Reaching into my breast pocket, i retrieve a lip balm. Ever so gently, i take my finger and moisten her cracked lips.

I place my index finger under her thumb, her chin facing upwards, looking up at me i maintain eye contact until she closes her eyes and i plant a kiss upon her lips. She kisses back, yet like her being, it's weak at best.

Moving in for the kill.

"How did you like your brekkie, Vera?" I gaze into gun metal blue pools with uninhibited affection.

"It was delicious, Joan."

I'm not taken aback by her use of my first name. She may feel a guise of control, yet we know the truth.

"I'm glad, beautiful. Do you want to know my secret ingredients?"

Vera leans towards me as if conspiratorially. Of course she does, always the twit, yet alluring other's with false promises of love or sex. 

"Egg, bacon, cheese, and dead goldfish- yours!" I whisper in a throaty voice, maintaining strict eye contact inches away from her. Vera's facial expression takes a turn for the worse. Well, she should have thought of that before she decided to hurt other's.

"W-what do you mean??!" She forces out the words from her lips as if tripping on them.

"Oh, i mean exactly what i say."

Vera appears to turn an indecent shade of green.

"I know your not planning on vomiting, Vera. After all, It's your own grave you've dug."

She looks at me, oh so unsure.

"Vera, i tried with you. I offered a solution to prevent more death, you denied my help. You could care less, your a phony. Your fucking "mummy" would should have left you for dead." 

She stares as if a million miles away, a look if guilt having encased her entire face. One cannot win with Vera. She pretends as if she's a victim, responsible for her goldfish dying. Yet when offered an opportunity to save them, she declines it!! What in hell, she claims such guilt for deaths, yet avoids preventing them. Learned behavior of her mother. Sickening. There are real victims out there, we don't need Vera disparaging them.

Slipping on my leather glove, i let my hand fly out, leather against skin screaming contact. This bitch is useless and always will be. Best i put her out of her misery.

Leaning in close,, i grasp her chin, moving in for a kiss. Her lips make contact, kissing mine back. It only serves to turn my hunger into starvation, a thirst that will never be quenched.

I release my grip and step backwards.

The kiss of death, death returns the kiss. It's not real, it's a phony play Vera has made, once again i am the fool.

Or possibly she was dead all along, these ghosts, they haunt me so.


	4. After the Math

The three piece custom tailored women's pants suite fits like a glove.  
The heat here is sickly, too hot for my liking, however bearable as i have air conditioning most everywhere.

The last place I'd expect to be, has turned out to be paradise for many. As for myself, I've lost any concept of paradise a long time ago.

Several armed men guard, assault weapons ready at their sides, the entrances to the large room with a vaulted ceiling i sit it. Shelves line the walls with various books, I'm sitting on a chair the price of a new car. My ankle holster slightly digs into my calf, above my boot. One can never be too careful.

"Horatio! What is her status?" I beckon one of my guards over. He looks uncomfortable, making the sign of the cross and oh so quietly uttering a prayer to La Niña Blanca.

"No need to pray quietly." I declare, as i nod towards a large skeletal statue in the corner. What some consider 'taboo', is more than welcome here. What one considers workers, i consider family and respect their rights to worship. She is dressed in what appears to be a white bridal gown, yet my guards tend to her outfits and offerings regularly.

"Oraciones de Santa Muerte." I smile at him, handing him a perfect pear, a bottle of tequila and a cigar to make his offerings. Horatio smiles at me, appreciation written on his sun hardened features and makes his way to the shrine.

The other guards, mercanaries, they remain on point, awaiting their turns at the shrine, oblivious to the various cats and dogs that wander the premises, i notice a couple women, Olga and Melinda, who pet and caresse an older Siamese cat with bright blue eyes, cataracts reflecting, and a rough looking pitbull. I've dozens like these wonderful men and women, all with a heart of gold. Their families will never suffer, for I've generations working for me. My team of lawyers ensure this under the threat of eradication. I've an army employed to care for these strays and the kindhearted and loyal people who tend to them. My other squads are drug runners and deal with serious business. They are aware of potential ramifications, i will not sugarcoat anything.  
As their boss, i respect their beliefs and partake myself in my worship of the dead. Vera once..now Santa Muerte. This villa would cost millions in America.

Vera's skin has long since fell off her bones. Her skeleton remains, dressed as an idol for those who wish to La Huesuda. Soon I'll find a replacement and Vera will return to dust. We worship death here. We worship life. We live well, numerous lives of various species are being saved.

I fear not death, for i know if i die, love will ensconce me, my life, my hopes, my fears. Darkness is all that will remain, love to be found once my life is snuffed out. Another burned out candle.

Vera has been immortalized for now. Her skeletal remnants serve a purpose, and if that brings hope to others, it's all for the better. 

As for my employees, they are loyal and well paid. I've found a successor for this 'business' as you can put it. Infamy always comes with a price.  
All i asked for was love. Did i get it? No. I've got riches, infamy, a cartel i run. Not Jianna, not Vera, not love. For I've given up on humans years ago.

When my death shall come I've set up a non-profit with the strictest rules to follow. Rehoming, trapping, neutering, fixing cats and dogs. If those who are to run in it my demise decide greed will rule them, I've a second unit in place to kill them on the spot. I couldn't save or fix Vera. I couldn't save myself from the pain of uunrequited love. Yet i can still help save truly innocent cats and dogs here. It's the least i can do.  
With the good, comes the bad. What some consider bad, helps fuel what is good. I've paved both the roads to heaven and hell simultaneously and they are one and the same. In the end, pitch black, coal highways of nothingness, existence obliterated, as if i never existed.

I pine for concepts of lost love, a Hallmark card full of consumerist shit; tossed it all into my fireplace. Oh, how society brainwashes us on such concepts of 'true love'. If it exists, there is only one. Most everyone will miss that chance, they settle, pretend and fool themselves. I refuse to live like that.

Pressing a button i take the elevator to my grande suite, top floor. All the wealth, houses, cars, jewels cannot equate to the emptiness inside me. Gunpowder infests my nostrils, synesthesia or a harbinger permanently singed by nostril hairs. I've liquidated my assets for my most loyal employess and their families to thrive, ensuring they will care for the abandoned, the strays, the feline and canine children that reside here, rescued from a fate i failed to save myself from.


	5. End Game

Overlooking a beach, sunlight reflecting off the sands, palm trees grow freely, local children climbing and chopping off coconuts to bring home to their families.  
Tourists relax farther out, brightly colored umbrellas and lounge chairs as the crystal clear water laps at their feet. I sit down in a reclining chair, pouring myself a triple shot of Crown Royal. Staring out the mirrored one way windows, I'm countries and lives away. The clear blueish waves with tiny whitecaps remind me of Vera's eyes.

It's been nine years since i left. Nine lives I've lead, maybe less, grabbing the triple shot glass i down half, pause and swallow the remainder. All that remains. Plunking it down on a silver tray, my eyes water. I can feel the slow burn of the alcohol as it makes it's way down my throat, a good excuse to conceal my tearing eyes, yet I'm alone.

My eyes wander towards the scenic view outside my window. My gaze fades, as if i myself, am disappearing, disassociated, withdrawing into my mind.

~~~

Vera has kissed me back, barely, a mere familial peck. Why did she ever lead me on, say she loved me, such lies. A wicked woman, indeed, she is. My eyes, bottomless graves dug, far deep we await, i stare into her dead sea water ones. We're both dead. My cheeks feel hollow, nostrils flaring in symphony my disapproval is evident. 

Shadows fill in the hollows of Vera's beautiful face as i grip it with my hand.

"Why did you do it?" It's a demand i know she will refuse to answer. She doesn't even know the answer, pathetic little bitch that she is. 

With a whack! The back of my hand collides with her face. She smiles this time, very slightly. I grab her hair, slamming her head against the wall. Stunner, huh? Ha. All the more my passion chokes on my anger.

"Oh Vera, don't look so shocked." I mock her expression.

She grits her teeth in defiance and lunges. I cannot have this. Unacceptable behavior. Unrequited longing right in front if me, for comfort never comes, and it will never..

My hand reaches for my ankle holster, unleashing a .22lr revolver. For such a small caliber, it is silent and will get a close up done.

Barrel to Vera's previous head, definition of defiance lost, uttered words of despair, for I've never fell for the power of prayers, i press that barrel to the left side of her temple leaving an indent. Imprints and the the carbon copies we make, unknowingly she will turn into an idol with those crawling to her wake..in time. 

"I fucken loved you!", i spit out with toxicity more poisonous than Vera and her dear mum both combined.

"Why did you do it!!!", I'm screaming.

She remains silent, as if deaf. I cannot get closure ever from some moronic broad who lacks the intellectual capacity to know what she does.

Screaming in agony, teeth grinding, gritted together i pull the trigger. No point in ruining a good corpse.  
I feel sick as i look at her slouched body. Never erect, her bad posture followed her like a shadow even while emulating me.

I just wanted to believe her lies. I cradle her vacant body to my chest, close each of her eyes tenderly and give her a final kiss, the only real kiss she's given me without her false lies..

\---

Returning to reality i seek release from that of which haunts me so badly.

Apparently peace and love are always to much to ask for. A final shot, regular size, my normal vodka. For those loyal shall never worry again. Money never would buy happiness, just comfort that is numbingly absent.

Reaching over i pick up my triggerless Taurus Magnum, a magnificent revolver, loaded already. There's no comfort in this world nor has there ever been, I'm bursting and my pride prevents tears from seeping out my eyes.

I've grown cold. I put the revolver to my head, my right index finger squeezing a fucking hairpin.  
Defending sound, then silence..nothing.  
All i ever wanted was peace and to be loved. My rage has finally subsided along with all the hurt.

~~~~~~~~~

Olga, Horatio and Melinda run in, the women crying, panicked. Horatio looks away. He speaks softly.

"It was her wish."

Wailing continues, La Llorena is glad to have helped many good familias and the cats and dogs who love without abandon and never judge, unconditional, a trait most all humans have lacked.

\---

Horatio dictates the orders, the women clean me up, gingerly, with tenderness as if i am a lost goddess.  
Once completed, he commands them to leave the room.  
He knows i wanted this..

Hands clasped in prayer, he appears haunted and takes a machete to my head. It was managled anyway, hell of a caliber the .357 is, yet i care not of my looks once dead.  
Vera's skull is removed delicately, placed lovingly onto my body.

Several men come in to attach return the remains of bloodied brain matter and skull pieces.

\---

There are nany ways to release a skeleton from skin, organs, bloid that confines. My men know what they are doing.

Vera's skull is now on my body, wearing a new expensive wedding dress of La Santa Muerte. Together we are united in death, the only option.

My old skull was carefully pieced together as best as could be with clay by a local artisan whose daughter's university i paid for. My once broken calavera on Vera's body resides in a roadside shrine outside of town.

My skeleton with Vera's intact skull remains in my villa, that of which many lives were saved and continue to live and thrive. Both humans, felines and canines.

Prior to my suicide, i sold out my share of the cartel to another boss.

It freed my workers (family really or the closest I've observed family to be) from having to worry.

Their sole jobs are to live and take care of the many cats and dogs.

Daily, they return to the shrines. I'm no longer here and neither has Vera been, for we have been long dead, It's La Santa Muerte they pray and leave offerings for.

The moment of death, eternal darkness, silence, peace. A tortured soul finally at rest. Comfort in nothingness, no love, no hate, no existence. Perfection.

They say you get what you give, it's a load of rubbish.  
What i did do is make sure many families had a future. Their loyalty and hard work was invaluable, you'll never find that in America or Australia, it's rare. Most importantly, they are making sure the fur babies are being cared for, spayed, nuetered. For if the humans' disobey, let's just say there's a hit squad waiting in the wings. Their bodies would be burned and dumped into a mass grave on the grounds. 

~~~

A calico stretches out and relaxes in the shade of a potted palm on the cool tiles. It is very warm here. 

Opting out of staying in the air conditioning, a muscular black cat with a slight tabby undercoat if you were to closely observe coloration, waltzes over to the calico.

The black cat with the faintest tabby patterning nudges the calico.  
The calico nuzzles him in return.

Mewling a tad, the calico rolls over offering her stomach.

Guttural sounds come from my throat, i lick the calico in return, as she grooms me.

"Oh Vera. How well we have it."

"This is the good life." the calico meows back.

Olga's granddaughter motions to her and Melinda about how cute the two cats lounging in the atrium are.

They will never know. At least they love and can live.


End file.
